The Happenings of Hogwarts
by Silver Forget-Me-Nots
Summary: Twisty-turns drama at a Hogwarts where all students have to worry about is whether they'll get their next assignment in on time and whether or not they'll finally wake up early enough to eat breakfast at normal pace instead of resorting to shoveling down scrambled eggs so fast you'd think they needed a medal...or a Heimlich Maneuver


A/N: This story is going to be on the more humorous and lighthearted side, so if you were here for dramatic inner conflict and teenage angst, then actually you can stay cause that'll be here...joking...kind of. But for real this'll be totally off track of all of the serious happenings of the books, and the characters will be VERY OOC, so if you don't want that, I would advise you to turn around now. So just to clarify, no dark Lord Voldy round these parts. I also haven't yet decided what year they're in, so levt's just say their age is later teens, like 16-17. Good? Good. And if you're here to stay then yay!!!! We'll have a party, so sit tight and enjoy the ride.

cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc

Draco's POV:

This was it. This was how he was going to die. Draco stared down at the piece of paper in his hands, a letter from his mother detailing each and every single one of the balls he was obliged to attend this upcoming season. He looked up briefly to gaze out at the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts, covered with so much pillowy, glittering white snow it looked like a forever marshmallow. He shook his head and snapped out of his momentary reverie before looking back down at the sinister piece of cream parchment, covered in the elegant black script of his mother's handwriting that sealed his fate. Curse the holidays. And curse all of the uselessly well-off families that felt the need to squander their fortune on equally useless balls and gatherings. Why. Why why why why why. Nope. Nopety nope nope nope he was not doing this. He refused. He pouted and fell back onto his bed, crossing his arms and looking like the petulant child he was. He knew that this was his only time to spend time with his mother though, and that she felt obligated to go to these balls not only because it was one of the few ways she got out of the house, but because, as she reminded him many times, they needed to show people that they did not think themselves above anyone else, and were not stuck up in anyway. At which he always snorted because the people who went to and held these parties were the most stuck up of them all, but he supposed even rich snobs could get butt hurt. Stretching and rubbing his eyes, he pulled himself back up and looked glumly at the letter again. At least there was a week left in which he could prepare himself for the upcoming torture. And...he grinned evilly...make a set of three certain someones's lives as miserable as he possibly could by being as deliciously horrid as he possibly could. Oh yes, he would make this last week worth it.

cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc

Hermione's POV:

Hermione let out an exasperated gasp and began the task of banging her head repeatedly against the wooden library table. Letting an inner thought accompany each bang. _Why. Was. This. So. Hard._ She stopped after receiving a particularly nasty glare from Madam Pince. And rubbed her aching head as she thought about her current predicament. Writer's Block. There was nothing, no stupid exercises, no spells that could make it go away, and she'd tried. Many, many times. Not. A. Single. Thing. She just needed to write an essay, that was it, just a single, teensy tiny, 50 inch long essay on the history of the inter-species mating habits of magical creatures. It wasn't hard, she'd written essays all her life. She was a pro, nothing could stop her from pumping out those polished and perfect essays one after the other. Except, evidently, Writer's Block, she briefly considered taking up the banging of her head against the dark oak of the table in front of her, but a stolen glance over to where Madam Pince sat, unimpressedly staring out of the (limited) scenery of the library had her thinking better of it. Maybe if she just thought about something else for a little bit. Like how she'd be spending the holidays with Theodore Nott and his family this year, both Harry and Ron had pointed out (several times) that this was odd, but when she reminded them how many holidays she'd spent over at the Burrow, they'd grudgingly conceded that okay, maybe it wasn't too weird if you put it like that. They couldn't make too many arguments against Theo anyway, his family, though pureblood, was well known to not give a crap about the values all the other pureblood families held so dear, (though that was changing lately, mostly because changing times call for changing mindsets), and they were well-respected and rich enough to do just about anything they wanted. Theo also had a younger sister, who was two years younger than them, and the first Hufflepuff in a very long line of Slytherin's in her family. Which, though surprising if you heard her last name first, was not surprising if you met her first. The first word Hermione thought when she first met her was _bright_. She was shining and seemed to be followed around by a constantly glowing sunny yellow aura, her pink cheeks and slightly wild pale, almost-blonde hair surrounding her head in a halo, combining to make what Hermione was pretty sure angels looked like, if they existed. But back to Theo, they'd become friends about two years before, drawn together and kept together by their incessant love of learning and books that had almost landed the both of them into Ravenclaw. He was witty and intelligent, slightly, okay _mostly_ , sarcastic, and Hermione knew she would never want for entertainment with him. Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors had long since uneasily accepted that he was there to stay as Hermione's friend. (She glared at anyone who made a snide remark against him and god help whoever decided to stand up to Hermione's glare). And they had now even begun to attempt to initiate (admittedly awkward) small talk with him on the occasions he sat with them. Whether at the library, a bench out on the grounds, or a booth getting butterbeer on a trip to Hogsmeade. She smiled slightly, gazing up at the way the light caught the dust particles, turning them a brilliant gold as they floated lazily through the air. What was she doing? Ah yes, inter-species mating habits, what a lovely topic.


End file.
